at knocked off, and suffered from a dead cat
thrown by unseen hands. The reason for this outrage also reached him.
Then, chattering with indignation and alarm, he hurried home and
acquainted Mr. Lyddon with the wild spirit abroad.

As for Blanchard, he roamed moodily about the scene of his lost battle.
In his pockets were journals setting forth the innumerable advantages of
certain foreign regions that other men desired to people for their
private ends. But Will was undecided, because all the prospects
presented appeared to lead directly to fortune.

The day of the sale dawned fine and at the appointed hour a thin stream
of market carts and foot passengers wound towards Newtake from the
village beneath and from a few outlying farms. Blanchard had gone up the
adjacent hill; and lying there, not far distant from the granite cross,
he reclined with his dog and watched the people. Him they did not see;
but them he counted and found some sixty souls had been attracted by his
advertisement. Men laughed and joked, and smoked; women shrugged their
shoulders, peeped about and disparaged the goods. Here and there a
purchaser took up his station beside a coveted lot. Some noticed that
none of those most involved were present; others spread a rumour that
Miller Lyddon designed to stop the sale at the last moment and buy in
everything. But no such incident broke the course of proceedings.

Will, from his hiding-place in the heather, saw Mr. Bambridge drive up,
noted the crowd follow him about the farm, like black flies, and felt
himself a man at his own funeral. The hour was dark enough. In the ear
of his mind he listened to the auctioneer's hammer, like a death-bell,
beating away all that he possessed. He had worked and slaved through
long years for this,--for the sympathy of Chagford, for the privilege of
spending a thousand pounds, for barely enough money to carry himself
abroad. A few more figures dotted the white road and turned into the
open gate at Newtake. One shape, though too remote to recognise with
certainty, put him in mind of Martin Grimbal, another might have been
Sam Bonus. He mused upon the two men, so dissimilar, and his mind dwelt
chiefly with the former. He found himself thinking how good it would be
if Martin proposed to Chris again; that the antiquary had done so was
the last idea in his thoughts.

Presently a brown figure crept through Newtake gate, hesitated a while,
then began to climb the hill and approa